Page 46 of The Wanted Prince
“So, if you didn’t do it, where have you been? Why didn’t you reach out to us? Ask for our help?”
“I—” My excuse caught in my throat. I’d been about to tell my brothers what I’d been telling myself, that I couldn’t drag them into this, or set them against Father. “I was embarrassed,” I said instead.
Dom let out a snort. “Really? Embarrassed?”
“Why would you be embarrassed, if you didn’t do it?”
I stared at my fists, clenched in my lap. “Because I’m the one you’d believe might’ve done it. The tabloids believe it, socials, the memes.”
“Gossip,” said Carlo.
“With a kernel of truth. I did have my lost year. That’s actually, uh, that’s where I’ve been.”
Dom shouted, wordless. Carlo’s face scrunched.
“Drinking again? Messing around?”
“No! No, of course not. I meant, I’ve been going around talking to everyone I hurt. Everyone I thought might be holding a grudge. I saw Pedro, Francisco, Rodrigo, Maria?—”
“Maria!” Carlo made a strange sound, a choked-off laugh. Dom was less subtle. He guffawed aloud.
“You talked to Maria?” Carlo said.
“She talked to you?”
“Here’s proof,” I said, and dug out my phone. I pulled up my text thread with Maria, the few chats we’d had since our talk in Modena. Carlo read it and grunted.
“She’s helping you catch the thief?”
“She’s asking around, but nothing so far.”
Dom took my phone, glanced at it, and passed it back. “So you’ve been on kind of an apology tour?”
I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I guessed he was right. “Sort of,” I said. “It didn’t start that way, but that’s how it went. A lot of apologies and humble pie.”
Carlo chuckled. “That’s actually kind of impressive. I mean, isn’t that how hell is, or at least judgment day? Getting smacked in the face with all you’ve done wrong?”
“And did you find who did it?” Dom leaned forward, eager, but I shook my head.
“It wasn’t any of them. That’s kind of why, uh…” I sat straight, squared my shoulders, and looked Dom in the eye. “You two are the last stop on my apology tour. I saw your leaked emails, and— no, don’t talk yet. Let me get this out.”
Dom humphed, then quieted and leaned back in his seat. Carlo crossed his arms over his chest. I drew a deep breath and went on. No turning back now.
“I know I hurt you as well when I went on my lost year. I know you were worried, and then I came back, and I acted like nothing had changed. Like that whole year happened only to me. But I wasn’t there for you. I dropped out of your lives. I never owned up to that, or made it right.”
“That did hurt,” said Dom. “We thought you blamed us.”
I blinked, confused. “Blamed you for what?”
“Maria,” said Carlo. “You told us, remember, you didn’t want to get married. We could have backed you, if you’d talked to Father.”
“It was on me to talk to him. Never on you. You really thought I held that against you?”
“We couldn’t think why else you’d run off without telling us.” Carlo pressed his lips together, then he relaxed. “Listen, though, those emails?—”
“You forgot my birthday,” said Dom. “At least, I thought you did, and I was pissed. I was ranting to Carlo, it was this whole thread, all my frustrations, however petty.”
“Oh, they were petty.” Carlo rolled his eyes. “Whoever leaked it cherry-picked the worst-sounding part, but you should see the rest. It’s outright stupid.”